


golden eyes golden skin golden boy (nothing is pretty when you look closely)

by makemelovely



Series: there is something aching in me, and i don't know what it is [3]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Character Study, Gen, Non-Linear Narrative, anways here's an angsty fic, disclaimer: i own none of these characters or percy jackson, he literally hosted kronos, idk why people think that, luke does not go to elysium, rick does, the gods are not great
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-16 22:58:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13646202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makemelovely/pseuds/makemelovely
Summary: Luke hates and--and that's all. Luke hates.//or the one where Luke is bitter, and he makes mistakes.





	golden eyes golden skin golden boy (nothing is pretty when you look closely)

Luke is dying, and he smiles because Annabeth’s always looked pretty when she’s crying. He hates that she’s crying over him, but at the same time he is pleased. Luke is twenty four and he’s dying and  _ oh gods what has he done? _

 

He tells her that he’s gonna try for rebirth. She smiles through her tears, gently reprimands him for pushing himself too hard. He’s not going to Elysium, and they all know it.

 

Her fingers grip his hand a little too hard and he’s gasping and he’s dying and he’s-

 

-he’s

 

He’s dead

 

Isn’t that something?

 

***

 

The scorpion crawls along Jackson’s arm, and Luke pauses. He hesitates, and the voice in his head tells him to leave before the damn scorpion turns on him. Luke listens, and Percy’s eyes slowly close. His body stills, and his breathing is raspy at best. 

 

Luke leaves, and his heart is so heavy. Maybe in a different life he was better. Maybe-

 

-Maybe isn’t enough.

 

_ Good boy.  _ The voice chuckles in his head, low and raspy and ancient. Evil, it’s evil. Luke doesn’t care.

 

***

 

He watches Annabeth struggle under the weight of the world, and he longs to help. His body physically itches to help her, but he feels frozen. Something solid in his shoes weighs him down, and he hates. That’s always been a problem. He hates so much it burnt the love from his heart and now it’s burning his body.

 

Annabeth stares at him, tears streaming and twisted noises of pain escaping her mouth.

 

He hates her. He  _ does _ .

 

***

 

His fingers brush along her curls one night and she bites at his hand. He smiles fondly, and his hand cracks across her face.

 

She cries out, her eyes wide before they narrow. She’s the picture of ferocity, and LukenoKronosnoLuke laughs. It’s not his laugh, and it startles him. His shoulders abruptly stop shaking, and his head tilts in confusion. He shakes it off when he sees that gleam in her eyes. All children of Athena get it. It’s how you know they’re thinking.

 

His hand grasps her jaw, squeezing until she chokes on a sob. His hand drops, and she’s got bruises. It would look nice against her tan skin. The bruises would really reflect the shades of her skin. Instead, she’s pale and sallow. The bruises do compliment the purple of her undereye circles. Exhaustion clings to her, and the bruises won’t fade for days.

 

Luke smiles proudly, and everything feels wrong.

 

***

 

“Family.” Luke promises, stretching an arm around a too skinny child with curly blonde hair and eyes wiser than they should be.

 

Annabeth looks at him with stars in her eyes, but all Luke can see is the blood on her face and the scrape on her knee. Thalia smiles grimly, and it’s fake. Luke looks at Annabeth, and all he sees is a child that has been made the pawn of the gods. His skin lights up in a blaze of red, and Annabeth curls closer.

 

The flames burn bright.

 

Later, the word Family will haunt him.

 

_ “Family, Luke. You promised!” Annabeth is fifteen years old, and her voice is full of pain and anguish. Luke swallows, and his golden eyes flicker to blue. He falters, and  _ oh gods what has he done?  _ and  he has no fucking clue. _

 

***

 

Luke is nine when he runs away. His Mom waves on the porch, eyes blank and smile stiff. “I’ll be back soon!” He yells over his shoulder. He hopes he never has to come back.

 

He meets Thalia a month later, and the sky is a brighter shade of blue. Thalia’s eyes glow electric blue, and her smile is messy and reckless. Luke wonders if this is love. They spend years rifling through stores and trash when they meet Annabeth. She’s seven, and she sobs herself to sleep that nights. She starts to curl up against Luke at night, curly hair messy and a blissful smile tugging at her lips when she falls asleep. This is a miracle, he thinks, and he loves Annabeth like a sister.

 

***

 

Luke is thirteen when he finally gets claimed. He used to dream about it, finally leaving the over crowded Hermes cabin. He has nightmares centered around the word Unclaimed, and nobody knows. He gets claimed, and he’s a son of Hermes. He finally gets a fucking bunk, and the mattress is lumpy. And the gods supposedly love them.  _ Right _ .

 

Luke will believe it when he sees it.

 

***

 

Luke is twelve when Thalia is turned into a tree. He burns brighter than the sun, and the hate coursing through his veins is hotter than molten lava. A chuckle echoes through his mind, and it’s ancient and cold. Luke believes the voice, and it dictates how his path will turn out. Luke listens to the voice, but most importantly, he trusts it.

 

_ Bide your time, little hero.  _ It says.  _ Your time will come, and the gods will fall. I swear it. _

 


End file.
